


Mix Ups

by lovingSkipper



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1243570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovingSkipper/pseuds/lovingSkipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarge was having a bit of a rough day. The Warthog was damaged and out of battery, the heat in the canyon was killing everyone, and nothing seemed to go right. He missed home, he missed Earth. He missed his family.</p>
<p>"Sarge, I-" Grif’s voice came from behind him, and Sarge whipped around and pointed at the base.</p>
<p>"Get back inside, Samuel!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mix Ups

Sarge was having a bit of a rough day. The Warthog was damaged and out of battery, the heat in the canyon was killing everyone, and nothing seemed to go right. He missed home, he missed Earth. He missed his family.

"Sarge, I-" Grif’s voice came from behind him, and Sarge whipped around and pointed at the base.

"Get back inside, Samuel!"

Grif stopped, and Sarge realised his mistake. Samuel is not who he was talking to. Grif is who he was talking to.

"Did you just-?"

"No. Get back inside and leave me alone."

And that’s what Grif does.

* * *

The memory of the incident seemed to have died down in Sarge’s eyes, and he was happy about that. He never talked about his personal life with anyone, so it was awkward to mention the one name of a person he hadn’t seen in years. It was even more awkward (and slightly disturbing) to call Grif that name.

Three weeks later, just as he thought the memory was dying down, he slipped up once more.

"Sarge, do we really have to clean the base? It’s fine, Donut can handle it. I’d rather be taking a nap," Grif complained, and Sarge rolled his eyes.

"Get your keester in there and clean, Samuel. It won’t kill ya."

They both go silent and stare at each other, but Grif doesn’t ask this time. He just goes into the base and leaves Sarge to his thoughts.

* * *

 

It happens several more times throughout the three years they were stuck in the box canyon. Neither of them really mention it to each other. Until one day, Grif couldn’t keep down his curiosity.

"Why do you call me Samuel every now and then? Who’s Samuel?"

Sarge’s eyes closed, his mind veering into the past.

_"I’m going to follow in your footsteps, Dad," a young man, around age nineteen, told his father, his blonde hair cut short and his blue eyes bright with excitement. "I joined the army."_

_"I’m proud of you, son," the older man replied, ruffling his hair gently as if he was a child. "Your mother would be proud of you, just like I am."_

_The son smiled. “You think so?”_

_"I know so, Samuel."_

_The young man, Samuel, rolls his eyes, a smile evident on his face. “Let’s skip this sappy shit, okay? I have to get my things together. We’re supposed to be leaving at six in the morning. Can you believe that? Six!” he said exasperatedly, physically deflating at the thought of getting up at an early hour._

_The older of the two chuckled with a shake of his head. “Get used to it, Samuel. You’re gonna have to do that every day in the army. They don’t allow people getting up at noon and staying up until four.”_

_"Well it sucks, not to mention stupid."_

* * *

 

_A knock at the door came, and the older man grunted as he got up, making his way to the door. Who the hell was knocking at a time like this, he didn’t know, but he was sure to give them a hard time. “Why I oughtta-“_

_When he opened the door though, the harsh words died on his lips and his heart dropped into his stomach._

_Three men dressed in red armour stood at the door, their helmets in their hands and a look of sorrow on their faces. The one in the front handed him a rolled up piece of paper, tied off nearly with a red piece of string. He bowed his head to the former army soldier. “We’re very sorry, sir.”_

_The southerner didn’t reply, just closed the door slowly, leaning his back against it. He slid down until he was sat upon the floor, burying his head in his hands. For the first time since his wife passed away, he cried his heart out, unashamed of the tears falling down his cheeks. The army took his family, and he could only hope the army would take him as well._

Sarge’s eyes opened, a deep sigh escaping his lips. “Just memories, Grif,” he explained, his voice oddly sincere. “Nothing you should concern yourself with.”

Grif dropped it, knowing by the sound of his superior’s voice that it was a touchy subject.

From then on, every time the name “Samuel” was directed at Grif, he didn’t mention it. He took it as if it was his own name and continued to complain.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr.


End file.
